Day 22
by BlackLolitarose
Summary: [Summary contains spoilers for season one] - It has been 22 days since Will Graham was incarcerated and left in the criminally insane ward. He has nothing now. All the people he knows have left him, believing he is a killer - all but one. This is a oneshot showing one of his routine visits from his last and only friend.


**A/N: I wrote this for a contest on another site and for that reason I put a bit of effort into this fanfic. Unfortunately the contest I entered was biased towards less popular fandoms so I withdrew it. I hope there will be some people here to enjoy it xD. I worked hard to write it in the style of Hannibal and I'd love to hear what anyone thinks. Please enjoy~**

**PS: Spoilers for Hannibal Season 1 Finale. **

* * *

"Day twenty-two. The time is unknown, I'm in Baltimore, Maryland, and my name…is Will Graham."

Every day he would repeat this exercise, to keep from losing his sense of time and himself.

The sound of a metal door screeching its way open alerted Will that he was not alone, at least for the moment. Standing, he walked the two steps to the front of his cell, watching as Alana came and stopped in front of him. Her hair looked a little disheveled, as if she'd stopped caring about looking professional. Her shoulders didn't sit as straight as they did only three weeks ago; there was a worried crease etched into her eyebrows that never quite disappeared.

Seeing Alana slowly disintegrate reminded Will of looking at himself in the mirror, and he could see she was starting to bend under an oppressive weight, much as he had. Never the less, her face held the same look of concern that had always been there.

"You haven't been sleeping well," Will finally managed to say.

"Does it show?" As always she was calm and unconcerned with herself. He had to look away; look at anything else. Seeing her like this made everything so much worse. He felt at fault for her pain, despite his knowledge of the real culprit.

"How are they?" he asked. Alana knew who he meant. They tried not to speak of Jack and the rest of the team unless they had to, which left only one "they" Will could be speaking of.

"The dogs are doing fine. With how well you've trained them, there's barely any work for me to do."

Will nodded. "Good." It was hard to say more. Right now he didn't' want to talk about his dogs. He didn't want to ask about his investigation. He didn't even want to say what he was about to.

"Alana, you should stop coming here."

She stared in confusion. Finally she said, "There's no reason for me to stop coming."

"There's plenty of reason! There's-" He had to stop himself. His mind was twisting, conflicting with itself. He was angry at how his incarceration was affecting Alana, angry at himself for looking forward to her visits, angry at everything. But he wouldn't take these feelings out on her.

Calming down, he started again. "This isn't good for you. I know it's not easy to handle… **This**… **Me**… You have to take care of yourself for once. **You need to stop coming.**"

"But if I do that, who will take care of you?"

Will had no answer. As much as he wanted to say "I don't need to be taken care of" he knew that wasn't entirely true. Alana watched him closely, hearing answers through his silence.

"Will, this is about more to you than my well-being. I know you're afraid that one day I won't come back. If you force me to leave yourself, it'll be better for the both of us."

"Yes, that's part of it," he unwillingly accepted. "I am…afraid. But we're talking about you right now, not me."

"I'm not so sure of that," she argued.

"Stop analyzing for one second! You're not my therapist!"

A crack appeared in her calm facade. She walked closer to Will's cell – closer than was allowed. But there was no one around. Dr. Alana Bloom always followed the rules.

"That's right," she agreed in a small voice. "I'm not your therapist. I'm your friend…" the word friend caught, as if she wasn't certain of its definition. "I'm not going to let you face this alone. No matter what the evidence says…I won't stop believing in you."

He tried to make his voice light, to hide the uncertainty beneath. "That doesn't sound very professional, Dr. Bloom." Even as he said it he slipped, letting the pain leak out like blood from an old wound.

"I know. Lately, I've been getting worse at following my own advice." There was no note of regret in her words, although there should've been.

"What is your advice telling you now?" he inquired, his hands unconsciously reaching out to grasp the bars obstructing him.

"That I should listen to you and leave… Do the right thing, at least for myself. But…"

With deliberate slowness, she reached out to his hand that gripped the cage. As her fingers rested over his, he was brought back to his classroom on the day Alana had held him, or rather, allowed him to hold onto her like a dying man holding onto his last hope.

"I know who you are, even if you don't."

Having nothing to say in return, he looked in her eyes for the first time that day, not willing to hide his own affection. He grabbed her hand and held it tightly; for a minute, the prison was quiet, holding its breath. He knew what Alana was going to do and why, but she still said her intentions out loud to clear any misunderstanding.

"There's no one else who can say the same, so… I'm coming back."


End file.
